


Say You'll Be My Baby

by Anonymous



Series: Steve and Connie one-shots [1]
Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Connie is sassy, F/M, Falling In Love, Featuring Steve's Southern Drawl, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Steve is a dummy, brief mention of gun violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Steve somehow manages to get Connie to go out with him and then he has the nerve to stand her up?? A one-shot exploring how Connie and Steve first get together...
Relationships: Connie Murphy/Steve Murphy (Narcos)
Series: Steve and Connie one-shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776109
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	Say You'll Be My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I am--apparently--a diehard Steve/Connie shipper. This is just a sweet, corny, fluffy idea for how Steve and Connie first get together. The title comes from the song "Make You Smile" by Elle King.

“…So it wa’n’t fake…”

And just like that he had me. It was that lazy West Virginia drawl rasping over the phone line and caressing the shell of my ear, smooth as Hershey syrup. And the balls it took to actually dial my number after that stunt at the bar. I was intrigued. And I won’t lie–the DEA thing was hot. I felt my lips quirk up in a pleased grin, my stomach fizzing with nervous excitement. I figured we could have some fun together…nothing serious.

The first date was a disaster. 

We agreed to meet for drinks. Nothing serious, just some casual fun and then… _who knows?_ Only we never came close to _“who knows?”_ because he stood me up. The worst part was that in the days leading up to the date I had truly grown excited about it. The more I thought about that tall, lithe frame leaning up against the bar, his blue eyes focused on me like I was his whole universe, the more nervous energy I felt churning in my stomach. Until I spent an hour sitting by myself, sipping beer and getting hit on by every guy in the bar. I was _not_ the girl who sat around waiting for a guy to show up. Except that night I was. I left the bar with a lump in my throat and my face burning with wounded pride.

I trudged back into my apartment, alone and wearing my best date-night dress. The answering machine glared at me as I passed through the living room. No messages. _Fucking hillbilly asshole._

When the phone rang in the middle of the night, startling me from a deep sleep, I figured it was work. I poked my head up to read the time on my alarm clock. 3:32 AM. _Jesus._

“Connie, honey, I am so sorry–” the accent wasn’t so cute now.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” I asked sleepily, my voice hushed but steely. “First you stand me up and now you wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“God, I feel terrible. There was an emergency situation here. At work. And I…it just slipped my mind. Lemme make it up to you.”

I didn’t answer for a minute. I could understand work emergencies. I’m an ER nurse, I get it. What I didn’t want to consider was a man who could forget about me until 3 o’clock in the morning after standing me up. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” I sighed, hanging up the phone and falling back into my pillows.

So much for first impressions.

I didn’t see him again for a couple weeks. I sure thought about him enough, though. Why couldn’t I get this guy out of my head? I was ready to dismiss him and never set eyes on him again when he came up to me the night we met. But…somehow he’d wormed his way into my consciousness. I found myself remembering the deep timber of his voice. Every time my phone rang I felt butterflies wondering if it might be him. But he didn’t call.

Finally, fed up and a little drunk after a night out with the girls, _I_ called _him._

“You know, the polite thing to do would be to send me flowers or a card or something! You know, really grovel!” I slurred into the phone, cradling it between my ear and shoulder as I stood at my kitchen counter scooping Häagen-Dazs into a bowl.

“Is this…Connie?” he asked, confusion obvious in his tone. “You drunk?”

“That’s besides the point,” I huffed. “I shouldn’t be the one calling you. ‘S not how this works, buddy.”

“And how does it work?” he drew out his syllables, letting his voice melt with intrigue.

“Oh, no you don’t! That stupid, sexy voice isn’t gonna to work on me this time!” I warned him, licking the ice cream scoop.

His laughter floated over the phone line as he responded, “You think my voice is sexy?”

“Shut up! You’re on thin ice. You’re supposed to chase me, beg me for my forgiveness. That’s how it works.”

He infused his voice with mock seriousness, “My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t realize. I’ll get right on that.”

“Good! You better,” I said, hanging up on him and letting the cordless phone clunk onto the countertop. As I stood there, eating ice cream and momentarily congratulating myself, it occurred to me that it was possible I’d regret all this in the morning.

Lucky me, there wasn’t much time for regrets. I was just finishing up my rounds when the Nurse Supervisor dropped a new patient intake sheet into my hands. 

“Gunshot wound. Very minor. Just needs some stitches,” and then she was off, rushing past me and trusting me to do my job. 

My feet were already leading me down the hallway in the direction of the appropriate exam room when I scanned the paper in my hands and saw the hastily scrawled name at the top. Stephen Murphy.

Gunshot wound. _Oh god._

He was up on the exam table when I walked in, long Levi-clad legs dangling over the edge. He sat hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing a handful of gauze to his neck. I cleared my throat as I walked inside, standing momentarily frozen in the doorway as he turned those striking blue eyes on me. I watched his face light up with a smile that even the blood-soaked gauze in his hand couldn’t dim.

“And here I thought I was havin’ a bad day,” he drawled, wincing only slightly as the movement tugged at the wound on his neck. 

“Jesus, Steve!” I breathed, pulling away the gauze and getting my first look at the shallow abrasion along the side of his neck. “This was…a really close call.”

My voice must have betrayed my emotions. I barely knew him, but this sudden, visceral introduction to the reality of his life was somehow pulling me in instead of pushing me away. 

He smirked and made light of it, waggling his eyebrows as he breezed, “I know, just an inch to the left and I woulda lost my sexy voice.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and held up the suture kit I was about to open, “Maybe not a good idea to tease the woman about to stick a needle in your neck?”

He held up his hands in capitulation, his smile blinding me as I readied to close the wound. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me stick out my tongue in concentration as I worked. 

I addressed him without looking up, “So, I guess you’ll do anything to get out of a date with me, huh?”

He huffed a laugh and I put a steadying hand to the side of his jaw to still the motion.

“Be still, honey,” I murmured under my breath, tying off the last suture. Steve went docile at the touch, looking up at me with stars in his eyes as I bandaged the wound. 

“Do we have a date?” he asked, his voice low and unsure. I watched his hands close into nervous fists in his lap.

“I don’t know,” I said, snapping off my latex gloves and dropping them in the trash. “Do we?”

And so our first real date was that afternoon in the hospital cafeteria. Steve insisted on buying my lunch and carrying both our trays despite his fresh injury.

“Eh, it’s nothin’,” he scoffed, but I didn’t miss the wince of pain as he set everything down on the table. 

“Big, strong man, huh?” I teased. 

He arched his elegant, blond eyebrows in response and his lips tugged up into a smile that cut straight through me. He watched me with that intense stare of his while I fidgeted nervously under his scrutiny, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear and looking down at my plate. I’d never felt like this with any other guy. I was always the cool, aloof one. Never shy and lovestruck like I felt at that moment.

“So…is this something I’m gonna have to get used to? Missed dates and trips to the emergency room?” I asked only half joking. I could feel myself falling into something more serious than I’d intended with this man. Something about him just kept drawing me in.

He snorted, not picking up on my somber thoughts, “I promise you, this is my first trip to the ER.”

“What happened?” I rested my head on my hand, watching as he took an enormous bite out of his turkey sandwich and smiling despite myself.

He took a minute to chew, opening up a packet of mustard and drizzling it onto the sandwich as he considered his words, “Streets are more and more dangerous, Connie. I was out with my partner. Followin’ up on a tip. Broad daylight. Son of a bitch pulled out a semi-automatic and almost blew my head off.”

I shook my head in horror, “Did he get away?”

“Nah, my partner managed to grab him,” he answered, then added laughingly, “Musta been a burst of adrenaline when he saw me get shot ‘cause Kevin can’t run for shit.”

We turned to other topics: family, how long we’d each been in Miami, my job as a nurse. My lunch break flew by and before I knew it I was walking him out to the sidewalk. 

“So…I know getting shot and turning up as your patient doesn’t exactly count as wooing you but…,” he broke off with a laugh, ducking his head and looking up at me with those blue eyes I loved already, “You think you’ll let me see you again?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a stern appraisal, letting my eyes flick up and down his long, long body before shrugging and faking a casual tone, “Sure, you can see me again.”

He grinned, stepping closer and brushing his fingers over my crossed forearms.

“Yeah?” he smirked, holding my gaze until I couldn’t help but return his contagious smile.

“Yeah! If you can remember our dates, that is.”

He put a wounded hand over his heart.

“Ouch! Baby, that hurts! I promise you–,” he broke off, bringing his hand up to cup my face and stroking his thumb along my cheek. I sucked in a breath at his touch. “I promise you, baby, I’ll treat you right.”

He spread his fingers, letting them thread through the flyaways escaping my ponytail, leaning down until our foreheads almost touched. 

“Would you get in trouble with your boss if I kissed you now?” he drawled, his eyes already fixated on my lips. 

I let my own eyes wander to his mouth. His pouty, pink lips were a little chapped and I watched as he darted out his tongue to wet them. He leaned in even closer until I could feel his breath mingle with mine. 

“I don’t think I care,” I answered and then I closed the gap between us and caught him in our first kiss. 

He brought up his other hand to cradle my head, moving his lips over mine and flicking out his tongue. I drew myself up on my tip toes, clutching his shoulders and melting against him. I could feel myself surrendering. To the kiss and to this man. Whatever I might have thought when he first swaggered up to me in that bar…I knew now that my life was changing. I felt myself moving inexorably closer to a future that included Steve. 

I smiled against his lips before forcing myself to pull away. 

“You better call me, Steve Murphy,” I called as I walked away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk with a freshly stitched wound, kiss-swollen lips, and the conviction that he had just had his first kiss with the woman he was going to marry.


End file.
